


Force Ten

by queerlyobscure (softestpunk)



Series: Kink Bingo Round Six (2013) [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 21:58:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestpunk/pseuds/queerlyobscure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So many of Dean's scars were earned in the defense of his brother, and Sam's just realising it for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Force Ten

**Author's Note:**

> For the kink_bingo square scars/scarification.

"Hold still," Sam warned, showing Dean the needle and thread in his hand to stop him squirming. Dean would never forgive him for saying so, but when it came to relatively minor injuries, he was the biggest baby ever.

Dean, suitably chastised for the moment, offered Sam his leg again, this time without squirming. Sam held his tongue between his teeth as he sewed as neat a line of stitches up the cut on Dean's thigh as he could. Though Dean's tendency to care about his scars was variable between showing them off to anyone who'd look and covering them up shyly, Sam figured it'd be worth trying to avoid a messy scar. A thin white line was just as impressive as gnarled flesh to anyone worth impressing, anyway, and it wasn't like Dean was into short-shorts or anything, but he did occasionally like to be naked around other people. 

"Could we get this over and done with this week, you think?" Dean complained. "I need to pee." 

"Hold it." Sam tried not to smile too obviously. Dean whining was a good sign as far as possible permanent mental scarring went. He was obviously not too worried about having been injured.

"You're lucky I'd miss you if I killed you," Dean said casually. Sam snorted and tied off the thread in a neat surgeon's knot before snipping it off. He wondered briefly how many people used emergency sewing kits for an actual emergency. The wound as it had actually been wasn't really life-threatening, but an inch futher and it would have sliced sideways through Dean's femoral artery.

"And that you need me to patch you up." Sam got out a roll of bandages and started wrapping Dean's leg. He sighed as the last of the panic faded from the back of his mind, finally relaxing enough to notice some of Dean's other, older injuries. His eyes paused on one just above his hipbone, half-hidden by the drape of his t-shirt. It'd come from a close shave with a flying knife that'd been meant for Sam, but Dean had gotten in the way of. Dean caught him looking and tugged his shirt down to hide it.

"I'd take a dozen more," Dean reassured him cheerfully.

"I know." Sam wet his lips. He'd taken a few knocks to spare Dean, but he knew that his brother had taken the lion's share of injuries between them. Dean would wave it off as his duty as older brother, but they both knew he went above and beyond for Sam all the time. Unthinking, Sam reached out to run his thumb over the scar, curling his hand around Dean's hip. Dean gasped softly, holding perfectly still except for a fine tremble running through him. As though a dam had burst, Sam felt a sudden rush of need to be closer to Dean, to take stock of each of the scars he'd gotten for him and thank him for every one of them. 

When he looked up, Dean's eyes were dark and his lips parted. He licked them and then swallowed thickly, shivering as Sam took his hand away. "You're all I've got, Sammy," he murmured, voice breaking. "I have to protect you." 

"I know," Sam replied again, feeling his hesitation melt away. "Time for me to take care of you." He leaned in and just barely touched his lips to Dean's, backing off in the same second they made contact.

"This is wrong," Dean whispered, guilt written all over his features. Sam could read his brother well enough to know when he was saying something just because he thought he was supposed to say it.

"I think we might fall under special circumstances." He squeezed Dean's side lightly, where he still hadn't moved his hand away. "Wrong is relative. And you want this, don't you?"

"You don't owe me." Dean looked away from Sam, talking to his uninjured leg.

"I don't need to owe you. Ever thought I might wanna look after you as much as you look after me?" Sam moved his hand to another scar, one Dean had gotten when they were both much younger. He had one to match, since they'd both hurt themselves falling out of a tree, but Dean had carried him home without much thought to the gash running from his knee to halfway up his thigh.

"I..." Dean looked at him and swallowed thickly. "Okay."

"Good." Sam smiled. Without giving Dean another chance to object, he grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and tugged it up, taking advantage of Dean's natural reaction of lifting his arms to get it off. "Lie back," he ordered, and Dean obeyed without protest, collapsing back on the bed with a dull thud. Sam climbed on top of him and then paused for a moment to take the sight of his brother in.

"I could get used to this," Sam teased. "Having you follow instructions, I mean." 

"Don't get _too_ used to it. I'm just listening to you because you're full of good ideas right now."

Sam grinned, pleased that Dean had let go of his concerns about this and was embracing it fully. "I'm full of good ideas all the time, Dean." He rolled his eyes dramatically as he leaned down to peck his brother's lips. Dean chuckled as he broke off, but cut himself off with a gasp as Sam moved down to kiss a scar on his collarbone. He didn't remember the exact provenance of that one, but he had the vauge impression that it was another his brother had gained while protecting him.

Working his way down Dean's body methodically, Sam brushed his lips over each of the scars Dean had gotten taking care of him, making a special note of every interruption of his brother's otherwise smooth skin. Someone else might have thought of them as imperfections, flaws marking an otherwise ideal body, but to Sam they were a part of what made Dean perfect. Every one of them was a tiny, subtle declaration of love and care only obvious to the two of them.

Sam looked up as he reached the crease of Dean's thigh, disturbed by the soft snoring coming from his brother. He smiled to himself at the peaceful look on Dean's face, happy to have sent him off to an easy sleep. After a moment's consideration, he stood to strip off his outerwear and then layed down to curl up beside Dean, throwing an arm over him protectively in an attempt to begin paying him back.


End file.
